


Can't Work Out What Flowers Mean

by krisherdown



Category: Tennis RPF
Genre: M/M, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-29
Updated: 2012-02-29
Packaged: 2017-11-27 04:19:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/657949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krisherdown/pseuds/krisherdown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gilles is allergic to flowers, which is especially bad because he has to watch Jo get roses every Valentine’s Day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Can't Work Out What Flowers Mean

**Author's Note:**

> I’m going on the premise they were all in Canada for the Davis Cup tie, which was not the case. Title is a mangling of lyrics from James Morrison's "You Give Me Something".  Written for [Valentine's Day Challenge](http://chair-umpire.livejournal.com/14520.html) for [](http://users.livejournal.com/_runningmascara/profile)[](http://users.livejournal.com/_runningmascara/)**_runningmascara**

For the last few years, Gilles has had to watch, or at least hear about, Jo getting a bouquet of roses from a secret admirer around Valentine’s Day. The whole display could not be more annoying.

First of all, Gilles is allergic to most flowers. It doesn’t seem to get through Jo’s thick head that the sneezing fit isn’t just for effect. Jo thinks it’s just another sign that Gilles is not romantic. One has nothing to do with the other, Gilles tries to argue, but Jo gets a kick out of teasing him for not having someone care enough to send flowers every year.

Secondly, as soon as Gael is told, he will start complaining to Gilles about it. Gael doesn’t like how Jo goes through a list of possibilities that doesn’t contain his name. It’s a futile exercise to say anything when there is so much denial going on.

This year though, Gilles has the misfortune of witnessing it all first-hand. It’s the day before the Davis Cup tie when he sees the delivery boy arrive in the lounge with the now-familiar arrangement. He gets to see how happy Jo is that his admirer hasn’t moved on, how annoyed Gael is at seeing that reaction, how utterly sickening the entire display is, and how it requires Gilles to head to the other side of the room because the runny nose is bad enough without the accompanying nausea…

What he doesn’t consider is how his own reaction ends up having Richard laugh at him… which might be even more irritating the sniffles, Jo’s smile and Gael’s disgust _combined_. Richard plops down next to the Gilles on the couch he’d been trying to use as a refuge.

Gilles shoves Richard away, then gestures in Jo’s direction. He has to figure Richard is, at the very least, a fellow bystander to this train wreck. “You know as I do what’s going on here.”

“Jo makes an elaborate display, hoping that Gael is the sender. Gael truly isn’t so all this accomplishes is Jo riling him up.”

Damn that smug bastard and that stupid smile on his stupid face. “Okay, I didn’t know either of those things. I’d been convinced that Gael is the sender.”

“Do you know Gael to be able to keep a secret?”

“True, but Jo still doesn’t think Gael is interested.”

“Gael never told us of any interest. He’s just that transparent with his feelings. That face can’t hide what he’s thinking. Here I thought you were the smart one of the group.”

“The pretty boy is calling _me_ the dumb one?”

Richard tries not to snort at that but the rolling of the eyes tells enough of what he thinks. “You know what your problem really is?”

Just great. By dodging the romantics in the train wreck, Gilles never saw the truck coming from the opposing lane. “No, dear Richard. What is my problem? Besides dodging the flowers so I can avoid sneezing for hours.”

“You’re allergic to Valentine’s Day. Every year…”

“I don’t eat chocolate and my body reacts negatively to flowers. These two facts do not imply that I’m… why am I even dignifying this nonsense with a response?”

“Jo is right. You are simply not a romantic.”

Gilles huffs at the thought of Jo saying that. It’s a low blow that requires a rebuttal. “Do you have a valentine?”

Richard’s eyebrows rise up then shrugs before glancing at his cell phone, mentally considering who’s in his address book. Of course Richard could easily scrounge up a date for Valentine’s Day even though it’s only days away and they’re on a different continent from most of the contacts. “Are you offering?”

“I will prove to you that I can be a romantic. Tonight. You will love it. Guaranteed.”

“Bring it on.”

* * * * *

Gilles would never admit it out loud but he’s always found Richard irritating. It doesn’t make sense that Gael and Jo are friends with both of them. Whether hitting a backhand full force or catching the attention of a top player, it all looks too easy. Gilles and Richard aren’t that different in size, unlike the hulks that they’re usually lumped together with, which only makes the mood worse. Gilles knows, in more calm moments, the truth but he’d be the first to say that he’s not always able to think rationally on certain matters.

For this supposed date to work, he can’t do with a fancy restaurant because he’s never been comfortable there when he knows there’s a McDonalds around the corner. Besides, Richard would likely upstage him, being more at ease in that setting.

Gilles’ cooking skills wouldn’t really work, either. He _can_ cook, kind of, but the results are better in taste than appearance. Maybe a blindfold would be needed. Which, he supposes, _could_ be romantic but it would just be goofy to have a dinner with a guy wearing a blindfold. Bumping into furniture isn’t exactly a good date, no matter how much he’d like to see Richard stumble about.

He had swiped assorted brochures from the tourism center when leaving the airport. Now his hopes laid in these scattered pieces of Vancouver.

When he finally sees it, he tries not to yelp. It’s so obvious.

The outdoor ice skating rink is the clear destination.

* * * * *

It doesn’t quite go to plan. Apparently, it’s not as original an idea as he thought. There’s a long line for the general public skating, not that there’s any space to skate to begin with. There’s also a junior hockey game going on at the opposite end, which has an even larger crowd that clearly wants to adhere to the stereotype of Canadians worshipping hockey.

Gilles stations them on the line. He catches Richard biting his lip, even with the scarf blocking some of his mouth, trying desperately not to say anything. Gilles will not accept defeat so easily. They will just wait this out.

Finally, Richard puts his foot down. “Gillou, you don’t have to stand out here in the bitter cold just to prove a point. At least if we watch the hockey game, we can sit down and huddle together with the other people crazy enough to deal with zero degree temperatures.” Gilles looks over at the bleachers just long enough for Richard to take that as a yes. “Excellent. I’m getting hot chocolate. You want anything?"

Gilles lets out a sign, relenting that the seats are, in fact, the better option. There is so much more potential, nestling together under an abandoned blanket - which would ordinarily not be a desired position to have with Richard but he knows he’s going to have to pull out stunts he’d only use on someone he’d _want_ to spend time with in order to accomplish the purpose of the night.

All he actually says is, “Coffee will be fine.” Gilles gets off the line and walks in the direction of the bleachers.

“Black, heavy on the sugar. Okay, you find a good spot while I deal with the drinks.”

“Thanks.” But once Richard leaves, Gilles mutters, “He knows how I take my coffee? Dammit. He’s being all considerate and romantic without even _trying_!” He notices Richard looking through messages on his phone. “Of course he’s searching for a better offer.” Fortunate that they’re in Vancouver, not Quebec where they’d actually understand what Gilles is saying to himself. “Milos and Vasek are too young but Dancevic is attractive enough to be a possible for him.”

When Richard finally returns with two cups, he says, “Message from Gael. Apparently Julien told him that Jo was on the phone with del Potro so now Gael has a new person to hate. His jealousy can be quite misplaced at times.”

Gilles accepts the coffee, enjoying the feel of the hot cup touching his cold leather-covered fingers. "Thank you."

He watches as Richard takes a sip of the hot chocolate, a satisfied look as the liquid warms him up. Gilles really shouldn't be paying this close attention, knowing nothing about this is attainable then wondering why he's wanting something from this particular person. Gilles says, mostly as a distraction from the moment, “How did he even get Delpo’s number?”

“I don’t know. They have common friends. Rafa, Pico… why you ask?”

“You had nothing to do with that?”

“Why would I?”

"You are connected to most of the tour. Delpo wouldn't turn you down."

"By 'connected', you mean?"

Gilles should shut up. He really needs to learn when to quit. "It's just... you seem to be a go-between."

"Go on," but Richard says that more as a dare for Gilles to continue sticking foot in mouth.

"Delpo really likes Pico, who is hung up on Rafa, who is blind and probably way out of his league. Since Delpo is the odd man out, he'd look other directions. He likes the sound of the French language, Jo told me that one time for some reason, so you could easily help the guy out in the meantime."

" _Help the guy out?_ "

"Sure. You know how to be romantic. That's what he needs until he actually has the right guy paying attention."

"You clearly don't know how to be romantic if you think good conversation on a date is me being the resident whore. Is it so wrong to want other people to find happiness? Jo and Gael already make each other happy but just can't say what they truly mean by that. I'd like to think it's only a matter of time but you're more stubborn than I thought."

"What does me being stubborn have to do with them?"

Richard mutters, "You're no help at all. I wonder why anyone would want to put up with you, much less reproduce."

"Don't..." Gilles catches himself in time to remember everyone around watching this hockey game. He grabs onto Richard's coat, his voice low and dangerous when he replies, "Don't you _ever_ disparage my son again. You think I can't love someone but I love him. It may not be true regarding his mother anymore but don't ever say anything like that about Timothee again. Got it?"

Richard nods, then uses his free hand to release Gilles' grip. "I didn't mean... I'm sorry. You just frustrate me." He turns away from Gilles, taking his cell phone out of his coat pocket and reads through texts.

"Fine. You have enough time to get a proper valentine."

"Shut up."

"I could connect you with..."

Much weaker reply. " _Please_ shut up." Richard is still holding the phone, trying not to shiver nor able to face him. They've both said things that cross the line, even though Gilles isn't quite sure what part of the conversation actually set Richard off. Gilles wraps an arm around Richard and pulls him over so his head can rest on Gilles' shoulder.

They are facing straight ahead, though neither focused on the game. Finally, Richard says, "There's something I have to tell you."

Gilles takes a deep breath, wondering if he wants the confession to be about their date or not. "What is it?"

"I sent the flowers."

"What?! _You're_ Jo's secret admirer?"

"Of course not. I like seeing him happy. Jo and Gael belong together but as long as that isn't happening, I like there's one day of the year when Jo _thinks_ that's happening. They really are passionate for each other."

Gilles moves his hand so that it’s now where Richard’s ear is covered by the wool hat. "That's... actually sweet. Twisted but sweet. But isn't he going to trace it back to you?"

"Jo did check into the delivery the first year. He realized quickly that Fabrice didn't send it."

"Heh. Good one."

"He thinks that clue means it _is_ Gael. Since Gael doesn't know the truth, the denials are quite real and driving Jo crazy."

Gilles laughs heartily at that one. "So does that mean you’re Cupid?"

Richard shrugs, though not appearing entirely comfortable with the assessment.

"What about doing stuff for someone who actually wants _you_?"

"The person I want isn't interested. I try but he is an absolute idiot when it comes to romance."

"Well if he can't..." Gilles trails off as he finally catches the exact wording of the earlier argument. Richard would be correct in calling him an idiot, that's for sure. "Is that what tonight is about? You _dared_ me into dating you?"

Richard turns, stupid doe eyes looking up at Gilles, hopeful for the right answer. "That depends. Did it work?"

Gilles knows right off the bat that this could get quite frustrating. But, damn it if he doesn't want someone who cares enough to find the way to Gilles' heart is by being combative. "A few rules first. One, don't ever send me flowers unless you're angry with me." Richard chuckles but nods along, his hand moving to cup Gilles' cheek. Gilles takes a deep breath but continues on. "Two, don't bother me with your wine knowledge. Three, while I don't like chocolate, I will reluctantly accept the fact... that you'll taste like chocolate for our first kiss."

"Chocolate and cinnamon," Richard corrects before proving it by a touch of the lips to Gilles'.

Gilles isn't going to change his opinion on flowers but he'd be willing to give a little on the chocolate.  



End file.
